


You, Too

by looneymoony



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Fluff, M/M, its got swearing!! look out!!!, meh this one was okay but i liked my others more
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/looneymoony/pseuds/looneymoony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ford has no clue what parenting is. Can Fiddleford save the day? (spoilers: yes)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You, Too

**Author's Note:**

> Originally Written: October 11, 2015  
> Tumblr Source: http://looneymoonyreblog.tumblr.com/post/130933060646/its-happened-its-finally-time-the-holy  
> Written in response to multiple prompts, as follow:  
> "Fiddauthor prompt : ford not getting any sleep trying to take care of the baby shapeshifter and doing a terrible job so Fidds helps him out"  
> "YOOOOOO I heard you were asking for prompts? :D Maybe Fidds convincing Ford to sleep even though he hasn't for 3 days straight?"  
> "Fiddauthor prompt = ford working wayyy to late so Fidds drags him into bed with him"  
> it’s happened… it’s finally time… the holy trinity… they’ve all come together to form the perfect fic… this fic shall be known simply as… "you, too"

_CREEEAAK._

The old floorboard rang out like a shotgun in the stillness of the room.

Ford held his breath.

He didn’t move a muscle.

…

Nothing.

He exhaled.

Immediately after, he mentally kicked himself for his mistake. 

Fiddleford shot up in bed as a blood-curdling scream pierced through the quiet night. It didn’t stop. It didn’t sound human. It sounded like… god damn it, Stanford.

He grunted as he forced himself to stumble out of bed. A quick look at the clock told him that it was too late at night for this. He continued anyways.

Stanford groaned as the shape shifter in his hands continued writing and wailing. The part of him that wasn’t completely worn out and tired and upset and  _dear God I just want it to shut up_  was mildly fascinated by its ability to cry for such a long time without taking a breath. How large were its lungs? Did it even  _have_  lungs? He would have to run an experiment to  _holy shit it just keeps screaming_.

He set the creature down on the kitchen countertop and stared down at it, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Ok, thing, just listen up,” he began to pace around the room. Could it understand him? Hell, could it even hear him over the sound of its own voice? “I’ve got a lot of important tests that I need to run, and right now, you are preventing me from doing any of them. I’m not exaggerating. Literally every single experiment requires silence. And on top of that, I  _know_  that I’ve got a very frustrated partner upstairs who will  _not_  be the least bit happy about the racket that you’re making. Now, you know very well that you are too scientifically significant to kill off; if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be pushing your luck. _However_ ,” he said as he pulled a long cleaver out from the knife block, ears ringing, hoping the little devil wouldn’t be able to call his bluff, “I happen to really like that man upstairs. So perhaps we can strike a deal. If you stop screaming, I  _won’t_ remove your head from your body. How does that sound?”

He couldn’t believe it. The monster actually stopped. Stanford was just about to start screaming himself, he was so full of joy, when  ** _mother of God what did I do to deserve this punishment._**

He snatched the howling demon and shook it above his head. “PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS HOLY, JUST  _ **SHUT UP.”**_

Stanford glanced to his right and blushed like a child who had been caught misbehaving. Fiddleford stood silently with a less than pleasant expression on his face. He didn’t say a word, didn’t even look over at his accomplice, but simply held his arms out in front of him.

Ford unceremoniously deposited the screeching brute into the open arms before him. Fiddleford turned and began cooing softly and cradling the thing like an infant. Slowly but surely, its shrieks of agony quieted down. Fiddleford even offered a finger to suckle, not even flinching when its sharp teeth pierced the flesh and began to drink the blood. “Go to sleep,” he muttered softly.

Ford’s jaw dropped as it closed its eyes and began purring.

It was still drinking Fiddleford’s blood.

Neither of them said a word.

Stanford rocked back and forth on his heels, finding the ground very fascinating and oh yes what was that he saw in the other room well gotta go -

“You, too.”

The over-the-shoulder glare that McGucket was giving him was beyond comprehension, let alone description. It was a terrifying mixture of sleeplessness, anger, determination, frustration, and just a touch of consideration that somehow added up to even more than all of those emotions, and Ford felt it hit him right in the chest.

He glanced around in the room. “M… me?”

His eyes narrowed.

Ford ran his fingers through his hair again, suddenly aware of how greasy it was and when was the last time he’d taken a shower or even eaten for that matter could Fiddleford see the bags under his eyes did he notice that he hadn’t shaved in over a week - he cleared his throat. “Well, actually, I, uh… I have a *ahem* a lot of work to catch up on and this experience has been really eye-opening and I really need to go work on that right now and -”

“No.”

Stanford blinked. “No?” it came out as more of a whimper than a question.

Fiddleford sighed, finally letting his muscles relax. “Stanford Pines, you have been awake for a total of seventy-five hours and forty-three minutes. In that time, you have eaten one bowl of cereal, one sandwich, two bowls of  _cheap_  soup, and eighteen pistachios. You have not bathed, slept, or shaved, and _worst of all_ , you have COMPLETELY neglected your partner.” Ford winced at that last one. “ _You_  are going to bed.”

Ford shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, briefly glancing at the blood-sucking grub snoring in his boyfriend’s arms.

Fiddleford rolled his eyes. “Honestly, how did you even survive before you called me up here?” Stanford blushed with a chuckle. Fiddleford moved past him and into the living room, where took off his own bathrobe (oh wow he was only in his briefs), swaddled the beast, and tucked him into the eye socket of the dinosaur skull. He straightened up and once more glared over at Stanford, who looked about as confident as a deer in headlights.

“Come on,  _buddy_ ,” he grumbled, grabbing his partner by the wrist. He dragged him straight up the stairs and quite forcefully shoved him into the bathroom. He began fussing with his consort’s appearance, folding up his trench coat, taking off his glasses, even combing his hair, all the while barking orders. “Brush your teeth. Change  _out_ of those filthy clothes. Shave if you can find your razor. And don’t let me hear another word out of you till you’ve done so.” he slammed the door shut, leaving Ford Pines alone, toothbrush in hand, and completely and utterly smitten.


End file.
